


Flatmates With Occasional Benefits

by LadyRhiyana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Jaime Lannister, Crack Relationships, F/M, M/M, flatmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana
Summary: Hyle and Jaime are flatmates with occasional benefits (i.e. whenever Jaime has nothing better to do).Until he meets Brienne.(Utter crack. Now with DVD extras.)
Relationships: Arthur Dayne/Jaime Lannister/Rhaegar Targaryen, Hyle Hunt/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell
Comments: 99
Kudos: 89





	1. Jaime/Hyle, flatmates with occasional benefits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tall_wolf_of_tarth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tall_wolf_of_tarth/gifts).



> This little stray spark was such fun I have made it into its own thing and have added a DVD extra. I have a few more ideas for other little extras, so if you are interested in this delightful cracky fun please jump on board. 
> 
> For tall_wolf, encourager and enabler extraordinaire.

Hyle had always thought himself relatively good-looking. Blandly handsome, even. But that was before his new flatmate casually sauntered into his life, all golden curls and lazy smile, with cheekbones and a jawline that made Hyle almost weep with envy.

Hyle had always thought himself moderately witty. But that was before Jaime opened his mouth, and every. single. comment was barbed, ironic and sometimes even a devastating one-liner.

Hyle had always thought himself something of a catch. He was pretty well-off, dressed in designer clothes, his hair was fashionably cut and he kept himself in an okay shape at the gym.

But Jaime was so filthy rich he could afford to walk around unshaven in ancient jeans and faded t-shirts, his too-long hair casually pulled back. Whenever he stretched, his t-shirt rode up to reveal his washboard abs.

It was utterly demoralising. And the worst thing about it was that Jaime had no idea they were in any sort of competition, or even that Hyle couldn’t bear to look at him without grinding his teeth.

Jaime didn’t even know that Hyle existed. He kept calling him Kyle, and looked surprised whenever they met in the living room or the kitchen of their shared flat.

And that was the worst thing of all.

**

“Look, Kyle,” Jaime began.

“Hyle.”

“Look, Kyle,” Jaime said, lazy as ever. “I’m sensing some negative feelings from you. Is there something you want to tell me? Is this about Tyrion stealing your girlfriend?” He paused. “Was that you? Or was it my last flatmate.”

“No,” Hyle said, through gritted teeth. “There’s no problem. Absolutely none at all.”

Jaime stretched, the waistline of his jeans riding low. “Okay, then.” He flashed his perfect white smile and patted Hyle on the shoulder. “Good talk, Kyle.”

And then he sauntered out.

**

He kept walking around, barefoot in low-riding jeans, his muscles flexing and his filthy rich assurance maddening.

It was more than flesh and blood could bear.

**

Finally, Hyle reached his breaking point.

Jaime walked through the door wearing a tight white t-shirt with black jeans and 2000 dragon sunglasses. He smelled of the outdoors, crushed grass, and expensive cologne.

The first thing he did was go straight to the fridge, open the door and stand there, drinking straight from the carton of orange juice.

He even drank juice from the carton in style.

Hyle couldn’t take it any more.

He strode up to Jaime, snatched the carton away and threw it to the floor, and shoved Jaime back against the fridge, crowding him.

The next moment he was slammed hard against the kitchen bench, his wrist twisted painfully behind him, crying out in pain – “Ah, Gods, sorry, sorry, sorry!”

Jaime released him and stepped back.

“What the hell was that?” Jaime asked, seeming genuinely curious.

Hyle put his hands in his hair and gave a manly cry of frustration. “You!” he growled. “You’re my problem. You and your – your _everything_! You keep waltzing around in your shirts and your jeans, with your perfect hair and your perfect teeth –”

“Ah.” Jaime nodded wisely. “I see. You want to fuck me.”

Hyle’s mind blanked. He opened his mouth, closed it, and managed to say: “…what?”

Jaime only sighed. He closed the fridge door, strolled over to the couch and dropped onto it, sprawling with golden leonine grace. His jeans-clad legs were spread wide.

He looked at Hyle, green eyes filled with mild interest. “Well?” he asked. “There’s a documentary on the Age of Heroes on soon, so you’ll have to get a move on –”

Hyle gave in to the inevitable. He crossed over to Jaime and went to his knees before him, hands reaching for his lion-emblazoned belt-buckle.

**

Things became – a little strange, after that.

Every now and then, Jaime would look at Hyle with that same mild interest, and Hyle would get to put his hands on those muscles, that golden skin, that impossible jawline. Sometimes Jaime even returned the favour, his hands big and calloused, and Hyle would feel his eyes roll back in his head, overwhelmed.

But Jaime still – _still_ – insisted on calling him Kyle.

**

And then one night, determined to prove his manliness, Hyle went out to a club and brought home a huge, rather homely woman named Brienne. She moved away when he went to kiss her and looked a bit irritated when he put his hand on her knee. Still, she came home with him all the same.

But then – _then_ – when Hyle fumbled open the door, the lights were on and Jaime was sprawled on the couch, rumpled and unshaven, reading a magazine on ancient Westerosi weaponry. He looked up when Hyle led Brienne inside.

Brienne’s gaze met Jaime’s. Their eyes locked.

And Hyle was instantly forgotten.

**

So. Well.

That was how Hyle found himself all alone on the couch, as his too-perfect flatmate-with-benefits and the woman he’d picked up to prove himself went into Jaime’s room and slammed the door behind them.

Sighing, he got up and fixed himself a drink. Turned on the television. Put on his noise-cancelling headphones and tried desperately to block out the ecstatic cries coming from Jaime’s room.

In the end, he gave up and went to bed, disconsolate.

**

Jaime had the gall to thank him in the morning. 


	2. DVD Extra #1 - The Gay Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early on in their - thing - Hyle and Jaime go to a gay bar. 
> 
> Hyle goes home alone. 
> 
> Jaime doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crack, crack, and nothing but crack.

Once, early on in their – thing – Hyle convinced Jaime to go out clubbing with him. 

Jaime sighed wearily, as if putting on good clothes and going out to see and be seen was the most tiresome thing ever, but he went into his bedroom and emerged five minutes later wearing designer jeans and a red t-shirt. His shoes were handmade Braavosi leather, worth at least 3000 dragons, and his phone was the latest and sleekest version on the market, but that t-shirt had come in a pack of 3 from their local store. And as for his hair, all he did was ruffle his hand through it and it fell into perfect dishevelment without the slightest need for wax or styling gel. 

Hyle took a full hour to get ready. 

When they got to the exclusive club on the Street of Silks, the bouncers waved Jaime in immediately but refused to grant Hyle entry. Jaime strolled in as if he owned the place (later, he casually admitted that his brother Tyrion owned a half-share) but Hyle was forced to slip the bouncers 100 dragons each before they would let him in. 

Finally, when Hyle wrestled his way through the crowd to the bar, he found Jaime standing chatting to a tall, black haired man, muscled like a maiden’s dream, with bright blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard. 

Hyle felt that he had something to prove. He stepped up to Jaime, slid his arm around his waist and smiled up at him. “Sorry I’m late, love,” he said. He leaned up to kiss Jaime on the cheek.

Jaime looked down at Hyle, bemused, and slipped away, leaving Hyle hanging. “Oh, there you are,” he said. He turned back to the black-haired god. “My flatmate,” he explained. “Kyle.”

Hyle forced a smile through gritted teeth. “It’s Hyle, actually –”

“Where’s your friend Loras?” Jaime asked, ignoring Hyle entirely. 

The black-haired god smiled warmly, and pointed out a slender young man with tumbling brown curls and melting brown eyes. 

Hyle had brown hair and brown eyes. But not like that. 

“Ah, Lannister,” said Loras of the tumbling brown curls and melting eyes. “You’ve brought a friend tonight, I see.” 

“Who, Kyle?” Jaime asked. He smiled his lazy, razor-sharp grin and laughed. “No, he’s just my flatmate.” 

The black-haired god shared a very speaking glance with Loras. “Well, in that case –”

Hyle watched on, outraged but utterly helpless, as the duo invited Jaime to join them for the night. 

He thought, perhaps, that Jaime might refuse. There was a documentary he’d been meaning to watch on the second Long Night. But – 

“Why not,” Jaime said, his eyes bright and interested. 

Without sparing Hyle a second glance, he left the club with them, off for a night of wilder sex than Hyle could ever dream of. 

Hyle was left to go back to their flat, alone.


	3. DVD extra #2 - Comparing exes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We broke up when Jeyne was only two months old," Hyle said. "She poured soup on me and told me to get out.” 
> 
> “A woman of sense.” That was Jaime, of course. 
> 
> “Well, don’t tell me you haven’t got any difficult exes,” Hyle retorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if Hyle's canon mistress or his daughter have names. I've gone with Alys and Jeyne, which appear to be common Westerosi female names.

“My ex-girlfriend will be here at midday today,” Hyle announced. “She’s bringing my daughter. A sweet little thing.”

“Your ex?” Brienne asked. She was cozied up to Jaime on the couch, and looked up at Hyle with blue eyes brimming with amusement.

“No, my daughter.” Hyle would have scowled at her, but Jaime was oddly protective of his huge, muscular girlfriend. “My ex is – difficult.”

“Oh?” This time it was Jaime, regarding him with lazy, malicious interest.

“We broke up when Jeyne was only two months old. She poured soup on me and told me to get out.”

“A woman of sense.” Jaime, of course. 

“Well, don’t tell me you haven’t got any difficult exes,” Hyle retorted.

Jaime paused to consider. “Exes, yes,” he said. “Difficult…?” A fleeting shadow crossed his face, but he shook his head, dismissing it. “Well. Arthur Dayne did call me an oathbreaker, once. But I still maintain there were mitigating circumstances.”

Even after months of living with Jaime and his peculiar brand of unreality, he still had the power to surprise Hyle. “ _Arthur Dayne?_ ” he squeaked.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, rumoured to be King Rhaegar’s lover –

Brienne sat up straight. “No,” she said.

Jaime frowned at her. “What do you mean, no?”

“My ex is a stocky ginger arsehole whose idea of wit was to throw the bouquet of roses he bought me in the bin. Kyle’s ex is –” she paused, looked enquiringly at Hyle.

“Pretty enough,” he said stiffly.

She rolled her eyes. “Kyle’s ex is ‘pretty enough’. But you – your ex is Ser Arthur Dayne. He must be almost ten years older than you.” 

“Well that’s never stopped anyone before,” Jaime said. He was grinning smugly. “He and Rhaegar were both very generous teachers –”

Brienne threw a cushion at his head.

Despite himself, Hyle found himself almost in charity with her.

**

Alys knocked on the door at 12pm on the dot, as arranged. Little Jeyne was holding onto her hand, dressed in a polka-dotted dress and patent leather shoes.

Hyle was rather fond of the little tyke. She was a fetching little thing, with brown curls and brown eyes and a sweet smile.

She toddled up to him and held her arms up. He lifted her up and settled her on his hip, and started the passive-aggressive dance of conversation with Alys. His child support was late, she said. He was always late with the payments.

That was when Jaime strolled out to meet them.

Alys’ eyes widened. Jeyne giggled with delight and reached out to him.

Jaime gave them his most charming smile and plucked the little girl out of Hyle’s arms. She cooed and rested her head on his shoulder, almost dreamily.

“ _You’re_ Hyle’s flatmate?” Alys gaped at him.

“Jaime Lannister,” he said, holding his hand out to shake. “You must be Alys.”

She took it limply, astonished by Jaime’s charm offensive.

And then he ruined it, as he always did. “Kyle was just telling us that you poured soup on him once. Please,” he said, grinning wickedly, “tell us all about it.”

Alys was only too happy to do so.


	4. The Dornish Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a Dornishman in the living room. Two Dornish-persons. A man who made simply sitting on the couch into an act of smouldering intensity, and a woman whose kohl-lined black eyes made Hyle swallow uncomfortably.

There was a Dornishman in the living room. Two Dornish-persons. A man who made simply sitting on the couch into an act of smouldering intensity, and a woman whose kohl-lined black eyes made Hyle swallow uncomfortably. 

It was eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Before breakfast even. He’d wandered out of the bathroom in only his towel, and stepped into - this. 

“Jaime,” the man said, “I thought you told me you were living with a woman.” His accent was rich, lyrical, and well - smouldering. 

“I am,” Jaime said. “That’s just Kyle. He helps pay the rent.”

Never mind that the lease was technically in Hyle’s name. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” The woman’s amused gaze dropped to the towel wrapped around Hyle’s waist, and he fought the urge to suck in his breath - he’d been a bit too lazy for the gym lately. 

“Oh, right,” Jaime said. “Kyle - this is Oberyn, my sister’s husband. Well, technically. And Ellaria, Oberyn’s -”

“Paramour,” Oberyn said, in his rolling accent.

“‘Beloved’, I was going to say,” Jaime finished.

Ellaria threw him a fond look. There was evidently a great deal of fondness - and history - between them. 

“I’m not sure why you’re here on Sunday morning before breakfast, though,” Jaime said. He yawned, stretching magnificently; he had obviously just rolled out of bed. 

“You can’t just blithely tell us that you’ve found domestic bliss in a two bedroom flat in Flea Bottom and not expect a reaction.” Oberyn sent Hyle a suspicious look. “If this is about money -”

“No, no,” Jaime said, grinning cheerfully. “I’ve still got my mother’s trust fund. It’s simply that Brienne is, well, my having a flatmate makes me seem more - ordinary.”

Despite himself, Hyle snorted.

“Besides,” Jaime continued. “Kyle’s not so bad. He has a functioning cock, at least.”

“High praise,” Ellaria drawled, her lips curled in a sly smile. “Does he know what to do with his functioning cock?” 

“Well.” Jaime shrugged. “He’s better than he was. I like to think I taught him a few things.”

Just then, the door to Jaime and Brienne’s room opened and Brienne stumbled out in her tank top and short boxers, bleary-eyed and with an epic case of bed-head. There were tiny dark bruises on her neck and shoulders - Jaime liked to bite, Hyle knew - and the red marks of stubble burn on her pale skin. 

She saw the visitors, went red, and then white, and retreated back into the room, slamming the door.

There was a small silence. And then Oberyn broke it. 

“Ah,” he said, a long, delighted exclamation. “”Now I see it all. I understand perfectly.”


End file.
